TD (groupe 2) - texte 7 - Virginia Woolf, The Years (UK, 1937)

If the bus stopped here, Rose thought, looking down over the side, she would get up. The bus stopped, and she rose. It was a pity, she thought, as she stepped onto the pavement and caught a glimpse of her own figure in a tailor’s window, not to dress better, not to look nicer. Always reach-me-downs, coats and skirts from Whiteleys. But they saved time, and the years after all — she was over forty — made one care very little what people thought. They used to say, why don’t you marry? Why don’t you do this or that, interfering. But not any longer.
She paused in one of the little alcoves that were scooped out in the bridge, from habit. People always stopped to look at the river. It was running fast, a muddy gold this morning with smooth breadths and ripples, for the tide was high. And there was the usual tug and the usual barges with black tarpaulins and corn showing. The water swirled round the arches. As she stood there, looking down at the water, some buried feeling began to arrange the stream into a pattern. The pattern was painful. She remembered how she had stood there on the night of a certain engagement, crying; her tears had fallen, her happiness, it seemed to her, had fallen. Then she had turned — here she turned — and had seen the churches, the masts and roofs of the city. There’s that , she had said to herself. Indeed it was a splendid view. . . . She looked, and then again she turned. There were the Houses of Parliament. A queer expression, half frown, half smile, formed on her face and she threw herself slightly backwards, as if she were leading an army.
“Damned humbugs!” she said aloud, striking her fist on the balustrade. A clerk who was passing looked at her with surprise. She laughed. She often talked aloud. Why not? That too was one of the consolations, like her coat and skirt, and the hat she stuck on without giving a look in the glass. If people chose to laugh, let them. She strode on. She was lunching in Hyams Place with her cousins. She had asked herself on the spur of the moment, meeting Maggie in a shop. First she had heard a voice; then seen a hand. And it was odd, considering how little she knew them — they had lived abroad — how strongly, sitting there at the counter before Maggie saw her, simply from the sound of her voice, she had felt — she supposed it was affection?— some feeling bred of blood in common. She had got up and said May I come and see you? busy as she was, hating to break her day in the middle.


Si le bus s'arrêtait là, se dit Rose, en regardant par la vitre, elle se lèverait. Le bus s'arrêta et elle se leva. C'était bien dommage, pensa t-elle, en posant le pied sur le trottoir et en apercevant dans la vitrine d'un tailleur sa propre silhouette, de ne pas être mieux habillée, de ne pas être plus élégante. Toujours ces vêtements de seconde main, ces manteaux et ces jupes achetés à Whiteleys. Mais c'était un gain de temps et les années après tout -elle avait plus de 40 ans- vous rendaient très peu soucieux de ce que pensaient les autres. Avant, ils lui demandaient : pourquoi est-ce que tu ne te maries pas ? Pourquoi ne fais-tu pas ceci ou cela, c'était envahissant. Mais plus maintenant.
Elle s'arrêta dans l'une des petites alcôves qui avaient été creusées dans le pont, par habitude. Les gens s'arrêtaient toujours pour regarder le fleuve. Tandis qu'elle se tenait là, regardant l'eau en contrebas, un sentiment enfoui commença à dessiner des motifs dans le courant. Ces motifs étaient douloureux. Elle se souvint d'un certain soir de fiançailles où elle s'était tenue au même endroit, en pleurs ; les larmes avaient coulé, son bonheur, lui semblait-il, avait coulé aussi. Puis elle s'était retournée -à présent elle se retourna- et avait vu les églises, les mâts et les toits de la ville. Il y a toujours cela s'était elle dit. Et en effet la vue était magnifique... Elle la contempla, puis se retourna de nouveau. On voyait le Parlement.
(...)